


Cracked Bones

by soncnica



Series: kosti!verse [8]
Category: Supernatural RPF
Genre: Abused Jensen, Abusive Parents, Age Difference, Alternate Universe - Summer Camp, Child Abuse, Crying, Explicit Language, Gen, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Implied/Referenced Suicide, Older Jared, POV Alternating, Psychologist Jared, Questional Psychological Tactics, Younger Jensen, not really a summer camp
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-01
Updated: 2015-11-01
Packaged: 2018-04-29 09:29:01
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,671
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5122949
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/soncnica/pseuds/soncnica
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jared hasn't been the psychologist at Camp Gamble long. He always wanted to work with kids - troubled kids - but now it looks like he might be in over his head. Jensen is 16, Jared is 26.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Cracked Bones

**Author's Note:**

> DISCLAIMER: I seriously only own the grammar/spelling mistakes. Everything else is NOT MINE! ALL IS FICTION.
> 
> PLEASE READ: After a comment I received on a story in this verse, I remembered that I forgot to put an EXTRA WARNING on this verse, so here it is:
> 
> I, and everyone in the story, are very much aware that what needs to be done in cases like these is call the proper authorities and report the parents.  
> But that being said, as you may have noticed I'm writing this from Jared's and Jensen's POV and no one else's in the story. And as you also may have noticed I'm writing this at snail pace, as in, I'm writing without any time skips or anything like that. So ... you see where I'm going with this!? I can't say what someone else in the story is doing or what will happen next from someone else's perspective. I think everyone reading this will just have to trust me.  
> Thank you! And please if you aren't okay with any of this, please stop reading as I don't want to hurt anyone. That is not the intent of this story.  
> Thank you!

 

It's ... strange to sleep. To sleep without the constant fear scratching at the back of his neck, fear for when one of his parents will come to his room, fear for what the morning and hours after will bring, fear for what lies his parents will spread around town again, fear of pain and humiliation, either with words or actions. Strange to sleep and not itch of fear, strange to dream of things other than blood and pain, broken bones sticking through pale skin, dad's belt swishing through the stale air. Strange, so very strange, to sleep like this. Normal.  
Like he's normal.

He can feel the strangeness of his blank mind even through dreams of riding a dark red bike down a cul de sac, with strong willow trees touching the sidewalk, no people around, just dogs barking from houses hidden behind the willow trees. He feels free on the bike, feels like he could go anywhere, but he's in a cul de sac, he can go round and round, getting nowhere in the end. The willow trees are keeping him captured on the road, a prisoner of his scars and fear.

He's scared now, he can feel it even in his dreams. He's terrified of those long, thin branches sweeping across the gray sidewalk; they look like dad's belt, the thin one he wears with the gray pants.

He's alone. Like always. Alone and scared, but still wanting to fight so damn bad, it feels like all his bones are cracked under the pressure of the desire.

He wakes up catching his breath, shaking hands and trembling fingers, chest too tight and a pressure in his head. He can feel the scars on his back itch, covered in the sweat running like a river down his spine.

He wants to scratch the itch, but he's terrified, because he knows what he'll find under his fingertips, if he touches his back.

"Jensen?"

The voice should've startled him, should've made him scramble from the bed to find shelter in the closet or under the bed or even out the window. But it doesn't, because the cadence of the voice, the deepness of it and the softness of it, is familiar. It's safe.

He breathes through open mouth, smacking his lips a few times to get rid of the dryness; he's looking up at the ceiling, clutching the blanket with trembling fingers, shudders running through him like he's being electrocuted.

He wants to say Josh, wants so badly for the voice to belong to his big brother, wants Josh to be here, take care of him, talk to him and tell him that everything is just fine ... but it's not. It's not Josh, rarely really ever was Josh.

He starts gasping for breath, sucking in as much of the woodsy smelling air as he can get into his lungs ... he wants his brother. He needs him.

"Jensen? Hey, whaoh, buddy, hey..."

He can't ...

There's a face above him now, blocking the ceiling and making breathing even harder because those eyes, the nose, the mole, the hair, the lips moving ... that isn't Josh. Isn't his brother.

And the strong hands, fingers long and thin griping his upper arms, aren't Josh's either. Aren't his brother's.

The voice isn't his brother's, either. The worry and panic hidden under the calmness and gentleness of the voice and words ... ain't his brother's.

"Josh?" he gasps out and arches off the bed when the pain of loneliness stabs into his lower back and he can't escape it any other way but to raise up from the bed and into Jared's arms.

Not his brother's.

Jared's.  
  
-:-

_Fuck._

Is the first word that finds its way to the front of his mind. _Fuck._ And then he's kind of stuck on that word, because there are probably rules about touching of his patients, of the kids here at camp. He isn't sure where hugs are in those rules, hadn't really studied them all that much, because most of the kids here are shying away from physical contact, are weary of it or too scared to come closer to him. And that's fine, that's super, because there are limits, rules, edges he can't step across, because the fall will be too long and the landing too hard, so yeah.

So. Fuck.

Maybe hugging is okay. Some kids crave physical contact, some need it so badly, it's insane, and some are too scared to ask for it. So, so maybe hugging is okay. It has to be okay and even if it isn't ... screw it. Screw it. He's not doing anything wrong, it's just hugging and even if Mike is to come in, he'll understand.

Damn it, fuck, but he really needs to read the rules more closely next time, because this is the second time something like this has happened and he's damn sure it won't be the last. He really needs to read the rules.

But right now, his arms are occupied with a wet, shaking, crying body. Jensen is too thin; he's scared to hug him tighter, scared Jensen will get crushed into dust. When he'd been carrying the kid from the woods earlier, Jensen seemed stronger somehow. Heavier. But right now, it's like holding a twig that had been soaking in hot water for too long.

He can feel his shirt getting wet at the shoulder, tears and snot and spit. He can feel Jensen clutching at his shirt, bunching it into strong fists, scrapping blunt fingernails on his back.

There are only empty words swimming in his head, besides the _fuck_ , empty words of comfort he's sure Jensen doesn't want to hear right now, words that mean nothing, words that will just fill the warm air, but not Jensen's head. So he stays silent, just tightens his hold and listens to sobs that make his eyes water in sympathy.

_Fuck._

They don't teach you this in school.

-:-

He shouldn't be doing this, he shouldn't need someone, he shouldn't cry like this. He shouldn't need anyone. He's strong enough, had survived sixteen years alone and soaking in fear. He shouldn't get used to this. Used to having anyone, used to having Jared there every time shit will hit the fan. Every time his fucked up brain will decide to bombard him with memories and and ... and feelings.

He shouldn't need anyone. Because everybody eventually leaves. Leaves him alone with his parents.

He shouldn't ... but the arms around him feel so good. The warmth from Jared's body feels like heat from a sunny day. He never liked being touched, always flinched away, screaming and kicking inside his mind, _don't touch, don't, don't, no_ , but right now, the touch feels okay. The arms feel okay. The strength feels okay. The fingers in his hair feel okay. The widely spread fingers rubbing up and down, left and right all over his back, feel okay.

He clutches Jared's shirt and hides his eyes into the man's shoulder. He knows, somewhere deep in his mind, that he's leaving tears and snot and spit all over the shrink's shirt, but he doesn't care. He doesn't feel ashamed or embarrassed, he feels free. Safe. So safe, it's suffocating him.

And he can't stop crying, even if he's trying to convince himself to stop. That it's not safe to collapse like this, not safe to let his guard down. Not safe to need someone like this, because soon, Jared's gonna leave. _He_ will leave Jared, leave the camp and go back to that house. His parents.

The darkness.

-:-

There's a strange hitch of breath Jensen does that makes him panic. It sounds ... different.

"Jensen? Kiddo? Hey..."

He grips the kid behind his head and softly pulls Jensen's head away from his shoulder. The kid's face is red and wet; there isn't a dry place anywhere. His eyes are bloated and they're surely gonna hurt a bit in the morning. But they're open. Looking. Watching. Staring. Evaluating. Calculating.

"Jensen?" he strokes the kid's hair, runs his hand down the wet, freckled cheeks to the kid's neck. Jensen's pulse is racing, the vein under his fingers standing out, he could grab it with his fingers and yank it out, but he places his fingers over it and strokes it. Gently up and down, like his mom used to do when he stopped crying. He wishes his mom could be here. She'd know what to do without blinking an eye.

"Jensen?"

The kid's eyes look dead, but the greenness of them is so vivid, he knows the kid ain't dead. He's looking, searching, observing. And then his eyes roll in the back of his head and his body becomes so limp, it's like holding a wet noodle.

"Fuck!"

He probably shouldn't cuss in front of the kid, but some of the kids have mouths of a sailor on them, and Jensen is no exception. Plus he just passed out.

"Mike!"

He yells, while gently lowering Jensen back to bed, arranging the weightless limbs into a somewhat comfortable position.

"What?!"

Mike's voice scares the living crap out of him, and he gets up from the bed like the words set fire under him.

"He passed out."

"What?"

He stands beside the bed while Mike walks towards the edge of it and sits down, beside Jensen's limp form.

"He ... he woke up, called for his brother, started crying and then passed out."

"Okay, okay."

He watches Mike check the pulse, lift the kid's eyelids, make some humming noises and then get up.

"He's asleep."

"So?"

"So, he's asleep. He'll maybe sleep until the morning, or maybe just for five minutes. I don't know."

"Okay, yeah...okay. Oh, check his arm."

"The cuts?"

He nods and watches Mike lean down and take the kid's arm. The cuts are looking okay, not infected or anything, they look small, kinda tender to the touch, but shallow, not deep enough really to do much damage. They look like cat scratches, sure they bled and he isn't a doctor, well, not a real one, but he can see that everything's okay.

"Looks good. Doesn't look infected, 's pretty shallow. Probably bled a bit, but that's all."

His thoughts exactly.

"Listen man, its two thirty, you need some sleep. Tomorrow is a new day, man. Come on."

He smirks: "You talking like a doctor or a friend?"

Mike sighs: "Doctor and friend. Dude you're a shrink, you know you have to take care of yourself too, not just your patients."

He rubs his hands across his face, up and down, up and down and takes a deep breath.

"Yeah, okay. I'll take a nap here in the chair. I promise."

"Okay."

"Okay."

The chair is uncomfortable and he'd rather be in his cabin in his own bed, but ... there's just no way he'd get any sleep there. No way he'd be able to get some shut eye, because the worry for Jensen would eat him alive. He can't leave this kid alone, if he'd been alone through this, this whatever it is, he thinks Jensen would find a way to kill himself for good. So he stays, folds himself as best as he can into the chair and nods off.

For about five minutes.

-:-

There's nothing at first and then the dreams slowly crawl to him. He's in a house, with a staircase going backwards and he's walking up, but going down and the walls are full of graffiti, words too twisty and colorful for him to understand. He needs to wake up. The house has a balcony, he can see it, but can't get to it, because the stairs only go down and not up and he needs to go up.

"Josh?" he whispers through dry lips and even dryer throat. His eyes sting and his body feels tired. Even if he's lying down, he wants to lie down even flatter, because he's just so tired.

"Hey, kid. Naw, 's just me."

He's really not shocked anymore about Jared's presence.

"Jared."

He doesn't recognize his own voice.

"Yeah."

"Okay."

And then he remembers. The crying. He cried and made his voice hoarse. Fucking hell. And then passed out. Passed out after convincing himself that he can. That he can fall into that darkness because Jared's arms aren't gonna let him fall that far.

He closes his eyes and tries to turn to his left side, away from Jared, but Jared's whispered: "You miss your brother?" stops him.

He shrugs. He does miss his brother, wants him here, want his big brother to take care of him, but ... he shouldn't want that. He shouldn't need someone like that. He shouldn't.

"You ... you said his name. A lot."

He shrugs again. He's so tired. So tired. He doesn't want to talk about this. Not now.

"You know where he is?"

He shrugs again. He doesn't know where Josh is. Somewhere on Earth, that's for sure.

"Jensen..."

He turns around then. He doesn't want to talk about this, he doesn't. Because he doesn't need anyone. Shouldn't need anyone.

Jared is gonna leave him. So why bother?

-:-

He isn't gonna lie and say it doesn't hurt watching Jensen turn his back on him and end the conversation. But he knows the kid is tired and talking about things at around three in the morning, ain't the most awesome thing ever, so he leans back to his chair. But he isn't ready to not talk. He knows Jensen's still awake. Can see it by the way the kid is breathing.

"So? What did you use, ya know, to cut yourself?"

"A rock."

The answer comes quickly and Jared smiles. The kid wants to talk, just not about his brother. Okay, he can work with this.

"Okay, well Mike checked it out, and said it was cool."

"Yeah?"

He can only feel a slight sting if he really concentrates on the cuts.

"Yup."

"Okay."

"Okay, so ... go back to sleep, okay. Busy day tomorrow."

"What?"

"Ya know, camp stuff, dunno what you'll be doing, but Nick sounded excited about whatever he has in store for you all."

"Probably something stupid." he mutters.

"Yeah, knowing Nick, you're probably right."

Because yeah, Nick is a bit too nuts about nature, but he's a good guy. Knows a lot of shit about nature and how to use it. Medicine, weapons, hunting, shelter, trees and rocks, Nick knows it all and more.

"Night."

The whisper catches him by surprise. He's shocked into silence for a few seconds, trying to grab a word and then he says: "Night." at Jensen's back.

-:-

The day starts early, bright and sunny. The sun is already warm at eight in the morning, even through the trees and the camp is alive with chatter and kids running all over the place, getting from breakfast to their counselors, to their assignments. It's like inside a hive, where every bee has its job to do and Jared laughs when a kid crashes into him in his hurry.

"Adam, chill. Nothing's gonna run away from you. Walk, don't run."

Ugh, he feels like his dad now. Which at twenty-six, he really shouldn't. Yet.

He keeps on walking towards the main cabin, where Gen's office is. He's dreading this talk; he'd rather jump off a cliff than have this conversation.

But apparently, being a responsible adult includes hard talks. Well ... maybe it will be less awkward and difficult than it had been when Jensen and he woke up. The kid had been shy, looking at anything, but him. It'd been awkward but he understood. Of course it would be awkward. The kid cried at night and yesterday had been a day of hell for him, of course he'd have felt embarrassed. So they said good morning, said see you later, said bye and went their own separate ways.

Jensen to breakfast and Nick, and he to Gen.

Knocking on Gen's office door, he takes a deep breath and opens the door.

**The End (but more to come).**

**Author's Note:**

> A/N: Okay the next few stories, erm chapters, erm idk what to call them, LOL, will be a bit different, because I want to include other kids and idk have some fun and let go of the angst for just a little bit. There will still be lots of everything (Jensen, Jared, other stuff), but erm, in a different way. Trust me :) And thank you for reading! Means a lot to me.


End file.
